


Terror In Tennessee - Prompts and fun stuff

by lonesomehunter (decimare0), simplygrimly



Series: Terror In Tennessee [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 55
Words: 15,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decimare0/pseuds/lonesomehunter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplygrimly/pseuds/simplygrimly
Summary: If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr!SimplygrimlyLonesomehunter
Series: Terror In Tennessee [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058315
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Liam slaps Herschel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Hey Liam, slap Herschel across the face  
> REQUESTED BY: Lonesomehunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:   
> Sadistic whumper, violent whumper, open handed slap, threats of violence, intimate whumper, trauma bonding

Liam’s heart pounded in his chest, blood rushed to his ears and filled his senses like water moving too quickly through a small canal. His vision tunneled as he focused on Herschel, hatred lit like a match in his stomach, the flame growing into an inferno as he watched Songbird press a quick kiss to Herschel’s temple and smile at him. Her silence only fanned the flames that were scorching the inner walls of his chest and climbing up his throat, burning the back of his tongue as the urge to lash out became uncontrollable. 

Liam narrowed his eyes at Herschel and stood at his full height. He squared his shoulders and found his voice despite how dry his mouth suddenly was. “Hey Hershey!”

Songbird’s gaze instantly snapped to Liam, her face twisted with worry and tension. Liam almost felt bad, he almost hesitated. But the way Herschel looked at him, the nonchalant smirk that quickly took over his expression, only enraged Liam further. 

He moved quickly, closing the distance between the two of them as Herschel instinctively pushed Songbird out of the way. Herschel didn’t move to stop him, he simply watched Liam’s hand raise with a bored expression and tilted his head as Liam brought his open palm down to crack across his jaw. 

His palm stung with the force of the slap, but the fire inside him died out as Herschel’s gaze slowly turned back to focus on him and his lips twisted in a wolfish smile. Dread pooled in his stomach, settled heavy and thick like deep sludge as he watched Herschel look him up and down. 

“It’s about time, Sweet Pea.” His voice was scarily quiet, too calm and even considering what had just happened, sending his thoughts into a quick frenzy. “Now we can have some _real_ fun.” 


	2. Do You Trust Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: 5 sentences, 'Do you trust me?' for Herschel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:  
> Food denial, extreme hunger, nausea, dizziness, light headedness, risk of passing out, possibly tainted food, manipulation, possibly tainted food, suspicious whumpee

_“Do you trust me?”_   
Liam swayed a little as he eyed the plate of food in Herschel’s hands, he was far past the stomach pain and nausea that come with the early stages of hunger and well into the light headed, dizzy unsteadiness that darkened the edges of his vision and threatened to steal his consciousness. Herschel’s sly smile was impossible to miss, even in his dazed state of confusion, and suspicion surged in Liam’s mind.   
He set the plate on the floor in front of Liam and stepped away, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Liam with the focused gaze of a King Cobra about to strike at a smaller snake. Liam couldn’t help but wonder at how easily Herschel gave him the plate - it didn’t come with blood or bruises or torment or even a game of begging and denying until Herschel was bored - and he was sure that the food had to be poisoned, or drugged at the very least. His sense of self preservation screamed at him to ignore the plate, to not risk his life for some pancakes and bacon, but his stomach won out and Liam forced himself to ignore Herschel’s satisfied chuckle as he wolfed down the plate of food. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	3. Songbird Makes Liam Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPTS:  
> 1\. Songbird ► go make sure Liam gets lunch. Seriously, does Herschel even feed him?  
> 2\. 'Don't touch me.' for Liam  
> 3\. 'Fuck off and don't come back' for Liam and Songbird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS:   
> past hand gore, hand trauma, bandaged hand, trauma reactions, anxiety, anger, lashing out at caretaker, blood, mention of stitches tw, mention of hand gore, shoving, cursing, insults, lady caretaker, lady whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, panic, fear, broken glass, glass in skin, cursing, held captive, feelings of guilt, whumpee lashing out at caretaker, caretaker is also whumpee, lady caretaker, denial of comfort, ruined meal/continued starvation

(1)

Songbird rolled her eyes at the thought that crossed her mind. 

_Of course Herschel feeds him, as if I would let the poor man starve._

She shook her head with a small huff as she set the fresh sandwiches on a plate and poured a glass of lemonade. Herschel wouldn’t approve of her giving Liam glass dishware, he’d call it a risk until he was sure that Liam was broken. But Songbird stood firm in her refusal to let him buy disposable plates and silverware ( _It’s terrible for the environment, and so wasteful…_ ).

She made her way down the basement steps, her footsteps so light that the old wooden stairs didn’t even creak beneath her weight. Liam lay on the floor, curled into a half circle on his side, his injured hand held loosely against his chest. Songbird sighed, all too aware of the pain that was being inflicted on him but powerless to stop it. 

She knew that he ate regularly, but she hoped that maybe a few sandwiches, a bit of extra food while Herschel was preoccupied, would help in the healing process and lift his spirits a bit. She knew Herschel would break him eventually - he broke everyone - but she hoped that she could at least cushion the fall a bit. 

(2)

Songbird gently sat down in front of Liam, placing the plate of sandwiches and the glass of lemonade beside her so that she could gently wake him. She looked at the red stained bandage on his hand, noting to herself that she should change the dressing while she was down here before he bled completely through the thin ribbons of gauze that she had wrapped carefully around his hand when Cheyenne had come upstairs that day ( _Herschel wouldn’t like the mess if he got blood everywhere, and it probably needs to be checked for infection again anyway.._ ).

She reached out and tenderly brushed her hand over Liam’s arm, trying to wake him with the lightest touch she was capable of so as not to scare him. But her attempt was for naught, Liam jerked awake at the feather light skim of her fingers across his bare skin. His eyes were immediately wide and fearful, his gaze only briefly registering Songbird’s presence before he was sweeping the room to look for Herschel or Cheyenne. 

She pressed her hand firmer to his arm, pulling his attention back to her. Even in silence, Songbird was a difficult presence to ignore; her gaze was shockingly intent and Liam never failed to find himself fidgeting under her stare. She somehow gave him goosebumps with each lingering look in his direction, he didn’t need to look at her to feel, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was looking at him. Her honey brown eyes were deep and intelligent, constantly surveying everything around her, easily communicating even in her persistent silence, calculating each and every move that she made and that everyone around her made. She always looked like she was playing - _winning_ \- a game of chess, like she was thinking ten steps ahead of the pawn she cleverly sacrificed as part of her long term plan for her rook to capture your queen. Her bright gaze locked onto something and it was clear that she was thinking through each step she needed to take in order to eliminate your more important piece, it was clear that she’d won the match before you even got a foothold on the board. 

Liam sighed and dragged his good hand down his face, his fingers scratching at his scruffy facial hair that had started filling in his face in haphazard patches that added to his haggard and frayed appearance. He sighed loudly, one of the few things he was allowed that didn’t earn him any more of Herschel’s ire, and looked at Songbird with a plain, aggravated expression. 

“What do you want?” 

She glanced down at the sandwiches and lemonade, as if telling him that they were for him, and then looked back up. Liam moved to reach for the food and Songbird held a hand up and then quietly extended it to him, silently asking to see his damaged hand. 

Liam held his injured hand closer to his chest, gritting his teeth against the pain she knew would be pulsing through his abused tendons, radiating through the sliced skin and muscle that she had pulled back together with her sewing needle and thread as Cheyenne and Herschel chatted above them. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered without looking at her. “I don’t need your fucking pity.” 

Songbird wasn’t deterred by his attitude, she simply waited patiently with her hand extended to him. 

“Jesus Christ, I know you don’t fucking talk but do you also not fucking _listen_? I _said_ I’m _fine_. Just leave me alone. If you want to leave me food, fine, but I don’t need you to try to take care of me like I’m some wounded lamb that the big bad wolf took a fucking swipe at.”

Songbird rolled her eyes and reached out to take his hand, insistent on changing the bandages. But Liam was also insistent, stubbornly refusing to let her even look at his wound. He slapped her hand away, the sound of his hand hitting hers rang out through the basement in an all too familiar sound of flesh being treated violently. 

“I don’t give a fuck how much you want to help, you’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for him. I don’t know what the fuck he did to you _Annie_ , but I’m not fucking buying into this little angel act you’ve worked out.”

His use of her name stung more than the slap to her hand, cutting through her composure and bringing immediate tears to hover just short of slipping down her freckled cheeks. Songbird bit her lip and furrowed her brow, she was determined to look for all their sakes, no matter how stubborn he was being. She gently reached out again, this time gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist to try to communicate the need to change the bandages. 

Liam’s stomach twisted at the physical contact and panic surged through him. He responded quickly, his instinctive reaction far rougher than either of them expected. He shoved her away from him with both hands, sending a flash of pain through his injured as he tore through at least one of the stitches she had carefully knotted in his skin. But he was too far gone, it hardly registered in his mind as the instinct to put as much distance between himself and any other human as physically possible. “ _Don’t touch me!”_ His anger only thinly veiled the pain and agony that twisted his chest and threatened to spill over in every way possible, but Liam clung to the anger and looked down at her with fire in his eyes. 

She had landed sprawled across the plate of food and glass of lemonade, leaving the two sandwiches on the floor in a slowly spreading pool of lemonade and shattered glass. She gingerly raised herself up onto her elbows, wary of the shards of the glass from the shattered cup but focused on the blood spreading quickly through the thin bandages and dripping down Liam’s arm. She blinked, biting her lip harder to keep herself quiet as hurt and anxiety ran through her veins, unsure what to do next. 

(3)

Liam stared at her, guilt suddenly burning in his chest as if his lungs had been set on fire. He hadn’t meant to shove her so hard, certainly not hard enough to leave her sprawled out on the floor in a mess of food and shattered glass. 

The sharp pain of hunger knifed through Liam’s gut as his gaze flicked to the toppled plate of sandwiches. Fresh bread was quickly absorbing the spilled lemonade, turning the sandwiches to an inedible pile of dirty deli meat and unsalvageable mush. 

His guilt quickly turned back into anger as he realized that it was another meal he wouldn’t get to eat. It was a meal that he had denied himself, food wasted because he couldn’t keep his head straight. It was kindness that he had denied from the only person that he could consider a friend - or at least something other than an enemy, an abuser, _a torturer_. 

Songbird slowly lifted herself back into a sitting position, quietly hissing as pain lanced through the sliced skin of her elbows and forearms from the shattered glass. She looked at the wounds, her face not betraying her thoughts as blood ran in thin streams down her olive skin, connected her freckles in vivid lines as if had a connect-the-dots picture printed on her skin. 

Just as quickly as the guilt had twisted into anger and back, the feelings left Liam entirely. He felt himself deflate, something reminiscent of defeat crashing over him as he heaved a heavy sigh. “Fuck,” he muttered as he watched her pull a particularly offensive shard of glass from her arm. 

She glanced up at him, but her face held none of the anger or annoyance that he expected. Instead, he was shocked to see something softer, sweeter, her expression somewhere between compassion and understanding, maybe a touch of pity in the way her lips pulled into a tight smile to reassure him that she was okay. 

Liam sighed and ran a hand down his face, realizing for the first time how scruffy his facial hair had gotten in the few weeks he’d been chained down in the basement. He couldn’t even focus on the lost meal, his thoughts were squarely on Songbird and how her injuries were his fault. A detail that Herschel would no doubt cling to as a reason for his next beating - possibly the next two, or three, or ten beatings. 

He stood and held a hand out to her, closing his eyes for a moment to steady his nerves. “Let me help you up, you’ll cut your hands on the glass.”

Songbird eyed him warily for a moment but took his hand and let him gently tug her to her feet. She gave him a small but grateful smile, squeezing his good hand gently with her own. He could see the unease that still hovered beneath her kind expression, and something in him twisted with a guilt he hadn’t felt before. Never before had he betrayed the trust of someone who had no intentions at all other than helping him; no selfish underlying motivation, no ulterior motive, just an honest concern for his well being. 

“I’m sorry, Annie. I didn’t -”

“That isn’t my name…”

Liam blinked, shocked at how quiet and soft her voice was, shocked at how it was still so powerful despite it’s apparent size. He had never heard her speak before, had never heard her use her voice for anything more than reacting to Herschel’s twisted games and brutal behavior towards her when they were upstairs. Liam heard the faint yelps and screams through the floor, but never anything that could be considered a single word from her lips. 

But after a moment of shock, it dawned on him exactly what she had just said. 

“What?”

She looked at him, her chin lifted with something like defiance. “My name is not Annie, my name is Songbird.” 

Liam snatched his hand from hers, suddenly flooded with disgust at the realization that she wasn’t a captive like him. She may have been when she first came here, but she wasn’t anymore. She had accepted Herschel’s behavior, she had bent and broken to survive, she had adopted the identity that Herschel had beaten into her over the years. She was less his property and more his accomplice, his _partner_. 

Liam stepped away from her, moving as far back as his chain would allow. The disgust he felt was all over his face, it was impossible to ignore and created a buzzing tension between the two of them that could have lit the entire house on fire with a single spark. 

“Get the fuck away from me. I can’t fucking believe you.” 

Songbird looked at the ground for a moment, clearly trying to brush off his hurtful tone, and looked back up at him. She took a step closer, still concerned about his injured hand. But Liam tried to take another step back, forgetting about the chain that limited his radius of free movement. The metal snapped at his movement, the sound startling Songbird into stillness and hanging heavy in the air around them. 

Liam kicked at one of the larger pieces of broken glass near his foot, sending it flying towards her feet in fresh shards. “Fuck off,” he growled at her, his tone overly saturated with a fresh rage that frightened her, “and don’t come back.” 

Songbird nodded, unable to bring herself to try to help again. She set her jaw and walked away, leaving Liam to deal with the mess of his ruined lunch and the glass that scattered the floor in his area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	4. Does Herschel Know What Love Is?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Herschel do you actually know what love is or are you still pretending you love Songbird?

Herschel wraps his arms around Songbird, possessively holding her with her back to his chest. She sighs and leans into him, letting her head fall back to rest on his collarbone, her eyes closed in a moment of quiet contentment. He kisses down her exposed throat, eliciting another almost silent sigh from her as his lips make their way down to her shoulder. 

He takes his time with the display of affection, drawing the reactions out of her in a show of intimacy and ownership. Songbird is effectively putty in his hands, her body soft and pliant in his grasp when he finally looks up at you. 

Shockingly, the truth serum has wiped the cocky smirk off his face and instead you see a genuine, serene smile as he takes a moment to think over how to answer your question. He looks like a little kid with joy sparkling in his bright blue eyes as Songbird pulls his arms tighter around her and makes a small, needy sound in an attempt to recapture his attention. 

He chuckles softly and kisses her temple, giving her a moment of tenderness before taking a deep breath and meeting your gaze. 

“Of course I know what love is. I don’t think I did, not until Songbird taught me how to be a better man.” His smile is wistful and his eyes are far away as his tone lowers as he whispers close to Songbird’s ear. “I may not have loved anyone before, but I know I’ll love my Songbird until the die God takes me from this earth.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	5. Does Songbird Love Herschel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: songbird do you really love herschel or are you just stuck with him

Songbird smiles softly and touches the back of her neck, running her fingers over the very top of the _BC_ branded into the skin at the very top of her back. It’s a sweet reminder of how much Herschel loves her, of his determination to keep her safe. It’s a promise that she’ll always have a home with the family and that they’ll do anything for her just as they’ll do for each other. 

A blush creeps over her face as her thoughts wander and she looks down at her lap for a moment as she composes herself. When she looks back up, her expression is gentle and open and she sighs happily. The truth serum works quickly and the softness that she tries so hard to keep hidden is easily pulled to the surface. 

“I -” she blinks rapidly, surprised at the sound of her own voice. Songbird takes a deep breath and steadies herself to start over. “I know that I shouldn’t love him, I know it doesn’t make sense because of what he - how he took me…” A cloud passes over her features as she thinks back on the early days with him, but she hasn’t answered the question and the serum itches beneath the surface as the need to continue grows within her. “I know it’s crazy, it really is. But he’s a good man - I promise he is. I know that sounds crazy, I know not everyone sees that but - but he’s good to me. How can I not love a man that loves me the way he does?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	6. How did it feel to watch Big Boy die?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Songbird, how did it feel to watch Big Boy die?

Tears instantly fill her eyes and Songbird bites her lip. You can see her stop breathing, her entire body gone entirely still as memories rip through her heart and shatter her all over again. The truth serum has firmly taken root in her mind at this point and she’s quickly realizing that it extends far past a demand for honest answers and extends to causing intense, unfiltered emotions. She wipes her eyes as the tears slip down her cheeks and you can hear the quiet whimper that she tries to muffle with her hand. 

She looks out the window and swallows, collecting herself with a deep breath as she tries to piece together the scramble of memories and emotions. When she finally looks back at you, her cheeks shine with tear tracks and her olive skin is flushed and rosy. She tries to smile at you, her kindness evident even through her heartache. 

“It was…hor-horrible -” she chokes on the words as she tries not to sob. It’s clear that she isn’t able to answer the question without her pain and grief slipping through the cracks of her calm demeanor. Her voice is raspy and broken but she stops trying to control the release of emotions and lets it all tumble out of her. “I know what Big Boy did, I know that Josiah couldn’t just let that happen, I know they had to…But it was just-just awful to stand there and watch them…I didn’t even - I couldn’t - I stood there and kept my mouth shut. I just watched as they - when he fell into that hole, it was - I couldn’t even say anything…I should have - I could have helped…I was so scared and-and Herschel was so angry. I couldn’t even say anything…I just stood there…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	7. Does Cheyenne want to keep Madison?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Cheyenne do you want to keep Madison?

Cheyenne grins at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement. Her smile is beautiful, in an unhinged, intimidating kind of way that you’d probably never go near if you saw her wandering around the real world one day.

She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees, pinning you with the predatory glimmer in her cornflower blue eyes. “Of course I do,” she purrs, her accent draped over every syllable. “She’s my best li’l rabbit yet, why wouldn’t I -”

Madison snorts as she tries to conceal her laughter and Cheyenne looks at her, stunned into silence. It only takes a moment of Madison looking at her expression for her to completely loose her cool, dissolving into a fit of laughter that leaves her doubled over and breathless. She smacks Cheyenne’s arm playfully and tries to take a breath, but the resulting snort only sends her deeper into the overjoyed laughter that has totally stolen her ability to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she wheezes through tears and continued giggles, waving her hand at Cheyenne apologetically. She holds her side as she struggles to contain herself, but every time she looks over at Cheyenne she loses any sense of calm that she’s managed to regain. “Oh god, I’m sorry, it’s just -” she wipes her eyes and forces a deep breath even as her shoulders continue to shake through the giggles. “Keep me,” she wheezes as she gets up and walks away, still lost in the fit of hysterics.

Cheyenne crosses her arms and sits back, sullenly slouching into the couch cushions. She pouts a little, sulking at the sound of Madison struggling to breathe from the other room. Her lips are pulled into a pout but you can see that the predatory shine in her eyes is gone.

“I was gonna say yes,” she says quietly, her brows pulled together in a slight frown. “But she’s a little fuckin’ nuts, ain’t she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	8. Is Madison scared of Cheyenne?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Madison, are you actually scared of Cheyenne? Because you don't seem very worried... despite the fact she kidnapped you... and hunted you for sport...

Madison is still struggling to catch her breath, wiping tears from her eyes as the laughter finally starts to subside. She shakes her head and smiles at you, clearly amused at the question. 

“Are you kidding? Look at her…”

She gestures at Cheyenne, still pouting on the couch and refusing to look at her. Madison laughs again and rolls her eyes. 

“No, she’s harmless. She just wants people to think she’s a big bad scary bitch like her brother is. Besides,” she shrugs and winks, “who wouldn’t want to be hunted by someone that fucking sexy?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	9. Does Songbird miss her old life?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Songbird do you miss your old life before Hershel took you at all?

Songbird looks around, making sure that Herschel isn’t standing over her shoulder. She can still feel the effects of the serum and knows that he wouldn’t be happy to hear how homesick she truly is.

“This is my home now, and I’m incredibly grateful for it. I love Herschel and I love the field and the flowers and the mountains. It’s amazing and I know I’m blessed.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, fidgeting as the words stick heavily in her chest.

Her voice is barely above a whisper and you can easily see she doesn’t want to answer the question. But she knows that fighting it only causes pain. “I miss my Daddy, so much. And I miss the church I grew up in…” Her eyes are quickly becoming misty and far away but she doesn’t stop the quiet ramble of her thoughts. “I miss my mom and sisters so much it hurts sometimes. I thought I was miserable, I went to college to run away. But now…”

She sighs and the sound hangs in the air as she stares down at her lap.

“I wish I could take him home to meet them, to see where I come from. They’d love him, my mom especially would think he hung the moon. But I wouldn’t trade my life here for my life before. Not even for a moment.”

She jumps as Herschel lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and looks up at him, worry all over her face. He smiles and leans down to kiss her cheek, lingering for a moment as she leans into him.

“I bet I’d love them too,” he whispers in her ear as he grips her shoulder a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	10. Would Herschel let Songbird leave?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Herschel- would you ever consider letting Songbird leave, even temporarily and/or with you?

Songbird looks up him, she doesn’t bother to hide the hope that sparks in her eager expression. But he simply sets his jaw and gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he shakes his head.

“No.” He looks at you with hard eyes, unapologetic and more than willing to be entirely honest even without the serum. “She belongs here, with me. She belongs to me.”

He sighs as he looks down at her crestfallen face and his eyes soften a bit. He cups her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb, and gives her a tender kiss. “I can’t keep you safe unless I keep you here, Songbird.”

A tear slips down her cheek but she nods and presses her forehead to his, eager to ignore her dashed hopes in favor of the moment of gentle affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	11. Is Songbird angry at Herschel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum: Songbird are you mad at Hershel for doing the bad things he's done?

She frowns and shakes her head, her expression full of a surprising sadness. 

“No,” she says softly as a single tear slips down her cheek. “He gave in to temptation…Herschel chased his demons into a place that was too dark for him to find his way back out of.” 

She wipes her cheek, shaking her head slightly. “I can’t be angry at him for letting the devil steal a part of his soul. My daddy preached forgiveness, he taught us that we should guide lost lambs back to God’s grace, that we should give them a light for their darkness.”

Songbird looks over at Herschel and smiles softly, caressing his cheek with a soft touch as he stares at his lap with his jaw clenched. “You can’t do that if you cling to anger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	12. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: "Where ya goin', sweets?" for Cheyenne and Madison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:   
> Lady whump, Cheyenne Boone, hide and seek, kind of human hunting, abandoned house, total darkness, who is really the whumpee here though, wlw

Madison crept through the old, abandoned house as quietly as she could, careful to keep her breathing near silent and her footsteps light and quick. She had abandoned her heeled boots as soon as the game had started, unwilling to let the sound of her clicking heels on the ancient wood floor give her away before she could give Cheyenne a good chase.

She peeked around the corner, her eyes narrowed as she tried to see through the dark that gathered at the far end of the hall. Madison knew that no matter how hard she strained to listen for any sign of where Cheyenne was, she wouldn’t hear anything. The erratic blonde was a master of moving silently, she never failed to scare the fuck out of Madison when she started slinking around and came up out of nowhere. She stared for a long time, waiting for even the slightest shift in the air to indicate that the woman hunting her was nearby. 

When enough time had passed that Madison’s heart stopped racing, she inched around the corner and tip-toed down the hall, hoping to hide in the deeper darkness that came with the boarded up rooms at the back of the dilapidated farm house. She had the vague thought of walking deeper into the belly of a beast as she found less and less light to guide her down the narrow hallway, but it felt safer than the rooms where sunlight streamed in through the spaces between the planks of wood that were nailed over the shattered glass of the windows. 

The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but the wood was silent and she was grateful for the absence of squeaking floorboards that usually came with old houses. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, as if it was fighting against the cage of her chest as adrenaline raced through her. 

Madison yelped as a hand closed around her throat and she was slammed into a wall. The darkness shifted but she still couldn’t see the prowling blonde that had pinned her so effortlessly. 

“Where ya goin’ sweets?” Cheyenne whispered playfully against her ear before swiping her tongue up the side of her neck as she gave Madison’s throat a subtle squeeze. 

Madison giggled and shoved her away, but quickly wrapped her fists in Cheyenne’s shirt so she could only go so far. “You’re so fucking weird, you know that?” 

She yanked Cheyenne back to her and pressed a rough, possessive kiss to her lips, delighting in the almost silent moan that settled in the back of Cheyenne’s throat. After a moment she shoved her harder, grinning at the sound of the blonde stumbling a little in the dark. 

“My turn,” Madison purred at her. “I suggest you start running babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	13. Commuovere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WORD PROMPT:  
> Commuovere (italian, v.) - to stir, to touch, to move to tears for Cheyenne or Herschel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: mentions of death, death of a parent, old photos, cuddling

Cheyenne sighed and rested her head on Songbird’s shoulder, snuggling closer to the quiet woman that she had grown so fond of in a rare moment of vulnerability. She gazed longingly at the old photo album spread out over their laps, the sun from the window casting a long glare over the yellowing pages and the faded photographs pasted on the once-cream-colored cardstock. 

She sighed as Songbird rested her hand on her thigh, all too aware of the melancholy that never failed to settle over Cheyenne when they started looking at photos. She snuggled closer to her, seeking the comfort of Songbird’s steadiness and calm as her emotions started to bubble in her chest. 

“We used to sit like this,” Cheyenne said in a hushed voice, “Momma an’ me. When the weather would turn the house cold an’ we were sittin’ by the fire, she’d let me sit close like this and we’d go through old photo albums.”

Cheyenne ran her fingers over a photo of Momma Boone, tracing her bright, happy smile for the millionth time since she had died. Songbird rested her cheek on Cheyenne’s blonde curls, listening to the memories that probably played in Cheyenne’s mind all the time. 

“She’d like ya.”

Songbird raised her brows as Cheyenne lifted her head to smile at her, genuinely surprised at the comment. 

She nodded, her bright smile a mirror of the photo she had just been tracing. “Yer good for Herschel, ya know? Keep ‘im in line, make ‘im wanna be better. Momma would love that, she always said he needed someone to tame the devil in ‘im.” 

Songbird smiled as a happy flush spread across her freckled cheeks, a fantasy of Momma Boone still with them, cooking with Songbird while Herschel and Cheyenne caused a ruckus filling her thoughts all of the sudden. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)  
> [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	14. All Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reminder of Songbird's place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:   
> Slightly nsfw? DDDNE, trauma bonded, fucked up relationship, dominant man, intimate whumper, consensual touching, consensual teasing

Songbird froze at the soft touch of Herschel’s hand to her waist. She could feel him behind her, standing close enough that a deep breath would brush her upper back against his chest. His fingers traced over the curve of her waist and up over her ribs, grazing almost innocently over the sides of her breasts. 

He slowly brought his hand up and wrapped his fingers around her throat with a loving, gentle touch. He tilted her chin up and guided her to lean back against his chest, easily supporting her weight as he wrapped his other hand around her waist and pulled her closer. 

He felt her body instantly soften in his hands, her breath quickly becoming rapid and uneven. Her eyes fell shut and her lips parted as she lost herself in his gentle dominance. She let her head fall back against his shoulder and she shivered as his breath ghosted down her neck. 

“Don’t forget,” he whispered against her ear, his breath over her skin sending a shiver up her spine, “I own you.” He kissed the sensitive skin just behind her ear and Songbird sighed as she rested more of her weight against his chest in an attempt to feel more of him. “ _All of you_ ,” he kissed down her neck to her favorite spot just above her shoulder and she whimpered almost silently. “Including your pleasure.” 

He chuckled and helped her right herself, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head before disappearing from the kitchen to leave her to finish her chores. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	15. Remembering Mama Boone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Why does Herschel cry at night?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:   
> Drugs, overdose, death, possible su/cide, regrets, death of a family member/parent, crying, grief, paramedics/mentions of police

On bad nights, when the storms get heavy and you can’t hear anything other than the rain pounding on the roof and it sounds like the thunder is beating against the front door, Herschel has a habit of slipping away from Songbird, careful not to disturb her, to go sit on the front porch where he’s sure he’s alone. He’s not sure why the storms always bring him back to the day when he found his Mama on the bathroom floor, dead and cold after he and Cheyenne had refused to come home for a weekend, overdosed on whatever drugs she had been able to get her hands on. He thinks about how he had to wrench the door open, how he had known what he was going to find before he even got into the little bathroom. He thinks about how she had begged them to stay home, swore she would stay sober and clean, how something in her eyes had seemed so desperate and frightened, how he had brushed it off as just another drug induced episode. He thinks of the possibility that she had done it intentionally. He thinks of how she had clutched her Rosary in her last moments, as if clinging to God Himself as the drugs pulled her soul free of her body, of how Cheyenne had pried them from their Mama’s hands as she screamed at the coroner to just _wait a minute_. He thinks about how Cheyenne had thrown herself on top of her body, begged her to come back, begged her not to leave them, how the cops had to physically pull her away so that the paramedics could pronounce her dead and call the coroner. He’s not sure why the storms always bring him back to that night, but he sits in the rain and lets himself cry with the sky, lets himself despair with the storm as it wails around him, lets himself relive those moments in the chaos of the rumbling thunder and flashes of lightening. He sits until the moments pass in his head, cries until the numbness settles back in his chest. And when the storm starts to settle, he slips back into the house, changes out of his wet clothes, and settles back into bed with Songbird. He pulls her close to his chest and allows himself a rare moment of tender affection as the last tear breaks free and disappears into the darkness of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to request content or send prompts, feel free to comment or come send us ideas via Tumblr! 
> 
> [Simplygrimly](https://simplygrimly.tumblr.com/ask)   
>  [Lonesomehunter](https://lonesome--hunter.tumblr.com/ask)


	16. “Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **cw: lady whump, violent whumper, punishment, tape gags, forced to eat soap**

“How dare you! What gives you the right to mourn her? You’re the reason she’s gone! You don’t get to do that!” Honeybee continues, her anger at seeing Josiah cry over Turtledove only rises at the threat. Josiah grabs a fistful of her hair and drags her to the bathroom, handcuffing her wrists around the sink pipe.

After he retrieves a roll of electrical tape from his room and wraps it around her fists, Josiah grabs a light green bar of soap from the shower. Honeybee tries to keep her mouth closed but Josiah easily pries it open, soaping her tongue until it suds. He forcefully closes her mouth around the soap, taping her head and fashioning a gag around it with tape so she can’t spit it out. “I warned you, little girl.”


	17. “Do you like old movies?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Do you like old movies?” For the sentence ask game_

“Do you like old movies?” Josiah says over his shoulder to Songbird who’s been standing beside him patiently waiting for him to finish up at the movie racks so they can grab lunch at Arlene’s before Herschel expects them back at the house.

“Some people just plain refuse to watch a movie if it ain’t in color. Can ya believe that? Think of what they’re missing out on,” Josiah squats down in front of the wall of shelves containing the second hand VHS tapes and DVDs, dropping different titles into the basket Songbird thoughtfully holds for him. Most of them were old spaghetti westerns or Cagney era gangster films, some were 80s teen slashers for Cheyenne to pick from. Josiah’s fingers run along the spines quickly, picking up the pace when he hears Songbird’s stomach growl next to his ear. “I been looking for this one for a long time, Tweetybird. Can’t believe it took so long for me to find it,” Josiah holds up a crisp looking copy of Night of the Hunter up for Songbird to see, she just smiles down at his childlike joy and places his treasured find into the shopping basket.


	18. “Sit pretty for me Baby, just like that.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sit pretty for me Baby, just like that.”_
> 
> **cw: stress position, bound and gagged, recorded torture, implied burns**

“Sit pretty for me Baby, just like that.” 

Josiah ties off the last knot and walks over to the tripod, setting it closer to his bound subject and checking the camera to make sure the angle is just right to capture every delicious sound that he can rip out of his boy, every plea for mercy, every moan, every howl. The intricate ropes pull Ezra down to the floor and hold him upright by his neck, his knees already shake with the effort it takes to keep himself from choking. A sheen of sweat covers his body from the exertion, he can feel himself getting lightheaded from only getting the slightest bit of oxygen through his nostrils. The duct tape is peeled away from Ezra’s mouth, who can only pull in as many frantic choked breaths as the rope around his neck allows.

“Now we can really get started. Don’t hold back Baby, I wanna hear those screams,” Josiah says in his husky drawl as he flicks on the blowtorch, the dazzling neon blue flames glimmer in Ezra’s wide tear filled eyes.


	19. "a watched pot never boils"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNING: burns, boiling water, mention of past victims, mention of snuff films, disassociating whumpee, nonviolent knives, mentions of past knife violence**

Ezra stares into the pot of water, watching as little bubbles gather at the bottom of the metal pot and cling until they break free and dance to the surface of the water. He absentmindedly wonders if he’ll ever feel that way again - if he’ll ever get a chance to dance like he’s floating towards freedom - or if he’ll be stuck at the bottom of a vat of boiling water, left to suffer until it eventually kills him. He hears his mom’s voice in his head, clear as he heard it 15 years ago, reminding him that a watched pot never boils, urging him to go get something else done and come back to it, telling him that water is the one thing that doesn’t burn or bleed, the one thing he can walk away from while he gets other things done.

He sighs and moves to the counter, pulls a knife from the butcher block to cut vegetables. It’s barely sharp enough to be used for anything and the tip is snapped off, precautions that he’s sure are in place because of some victim long before him that got ahold of a kitchen knife and tried to retaliate against the devil himself. He stares at the knife, stares at the dulled end that clearly was filed down after being snapped off, and thinks through the tapes. He wonders which one was brave enough to challenge a demon, which one had a moment of willpower and bravery so strong that they didn’t think about the possibility of failure, which one paid dearly for their mistake - maybe even died for it.

Hunger and exhaustion makes his mind hazy, causes his thoughts to consume him like floodwaters rushing over everything in their path, blinds him to his surroundings like sunshine leaving him to bask in an unfocused glow like a spring afternoon after mornings filled with gentle rain showers. He’s so lost in imagining the reason for the kitchen knives to be less effective than a pair of safety scissors that he doesn’t hear Josiah walk into the kitchen, he doesn’t hear the hardened giant’s hum of displeasure as he glances at Ezra’s frozen form, he doesn’t hear him quickly move to the stove to glance into the pot of boiling water waiting that’s roiling violently as it waits for Ezra to put it to good use.

He’s lost in his own personal horror show, flashes of the video tapes he’ll never be able to forget mingling with horrific imaginings of moments that weren’t caught on film. He’s hopelessly lost until Josiah’s sharp voice snaps him out of his thoughts with a single word that demanded Ezra’s attention.

“Baby!”

Ezra practically jumps out of his own skin, so frightened that the myriad of aches and pains leaves his body as he prays that Josiah is in a merciful mood for a split second before turning to the ginger devil.

It happens so quickly that Ezra doesn’t even realize it was real for a moment. He turns to Josiah and is immediately met with a splash of boiling water from the pot on the stove being splashed over his chest and neck, the shiny metal of the pot glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window as Josiah flings it towards him. He’s stunned, staring at Josiah’s smirk with an open mouth and wide eyes, his mind clearly stuttering as he desperately tries to process what just happened.

The metal pot clatters to the ground with a harsh, metallic sound that makes Ezra swear he can taste metal at the back of his throat and the white hot pain of the boiling water blossoms over his chest.


	20. A Scar Amidst Her Freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josiah does his best to atone for a past sin.
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: scars, mentions of stabbing, mentions of knives, chronic pain, massage, mention of alcohol/drinking, lady whumpee, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, drunk whumper**

Songbird closed her eyes and winced slightly as she tilted her head to the side, stretching the muscles of her neck and shoulder. The stab wound had long since healed, leaving nothing but a vivid, pink line of scar tissue where her shoulder met her neck. The wound was little more than a memory of a drunken slip of Josiah’s hand from her early days with the family, time had made it a part of her that felt as ordinary as her freckles or a birthmark. 

She traced her fingers over the scar, delicately touching the silky texture that didn’t match the softness of the rest of her skin. The nerves lit up with fresh pain despite her light touch, and Songbird sighed as she pressed her fingers into the muscle and moved them in slow circles. 

A large, warm hand settled over hers and Songbird jumped at the unexpected touch. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Josiah, wondering silently at how he managed to move so quietly despite his impressive size. He took over massaging the scar, expertly working the painful knot of nerves beneath the skin with a sad expression as he avoided looking into her eyes. 

She knew that he harbored an overwhelming amount of guilt, that he still hadn’t forgiven himself for the ways he had tormented her when Herschel first brought her into the family. Every now and then, Songbird could see the anger and regret in his eyes. The way he mentally punished himself for how often he had delighted in the cruelty of his words, for how many bruises he had marked her with. But it was easy to see that his biggest regret was the day his knife had slipped and left them both with a permanent reminder of how cruel he could really be. 

Songbird made a quiet sound of pain as his fingers deftly worked into the rough tissue. He applied gentle pressure in an effort to break up the knots that had formed beneath the skin, hoping to ease the intensity of the pain that she still felt. It had been years since he had caused the original wound, but every now and then Songbird still felt the pain lance through her shoulder as clearly as if she had been freshly stabbed all over again. The brief moments of agony were like fire racing across her nerves, ripping through her in bursts of heat that never failed to stop her in her tracks. 

Josiah seemed to know when the memory prickled beneath her skin, always quick to offer a comforting touch to ease her suffering. But they both knew that the damage he had done, whatever the drunken slip of his hand had touched within her, would plague her senses for the rest of her life.


	21. Josiah truth serum how do you feel about how you treat ezra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Josiah truth serum how do you feel about how you treat ezra and them_
> 
> **cw: talk of murder, implied noncon/dubcon, violent whumper**

"Some days I wish it didn't make Baby so unhappy. He doesn't make too much of a fuss. Does what he's told and lets me love on him more now that he's gettin' settled," Josiah looks out through the screen door to the back porch where Ezra sits on the swing, holding a ziplock bag of ice to his swollen bottom lip. Josiah's demeanor shifts, his eyes pick up an intensity that could burn through steel. "But most days I feel the need clawing at me, widening the hole in my damned soul and the guilt fades away to nothing. I could bury him tomorrow and not bat an eye."


	22. Cheyenne & Madison's First Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheyenne shows Madison a gentler side as they celebrate their first Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING:  
> Fluff, WLW content

Cheyenne took Madison’s hand and gently pulled her to the living room, her trademark malicious smile oddly replaced by a soft smile that could only be described as eager and childlike. Her eyes were misty and filled with the same whimsical sense of wonder that Madison saw on the faces of little children seeing gifts from Santa piled under the tree.

Madison sighed and followed her, unsure what she expected but sure it would be something terrifying at worst and annoying at best. What she did not expect was a fir tree sitting in the corner of the living room, freshly cut and overwhelming the room with the smell of the mountains. 

She glanced over at Cheyenne to find the blonde watching her, fingers still twined in hers, scanning her face to gauge Madison’s reaction to the unexpected display of Christmas spirit. 

Madison frowned slightly, still sure that there was some trick to the whole thing that was intended to make her miserable. “What’s all this?” 

With a shrug and a small smile, Cheyenne responded in a small, unsure voice. “I don’ know. I just thought that we could decorate or somethin’ and make it nice.”

She raised a brow at Cheyenne, a little stunned at the answer. “I mean, it’s already Christmas, isn’t that a lot of work to just take it all down in a few days?” 

It was strange to see her deflate at the answer, her shoulders visibly slouching as she dropped Madison’s hand. Her guard went up quickly and she flashed Madison that dazzling smile that she saw far too often. “Well that’s alright honey, I’ll do it m’self. You can jus’ hang out and enjoy the rest of the day.”

Madison narrowed her eyes at her but Cheyenne simply moved to the big green plastic bin with a Christmas tree sticker slapped on the side and began pulling out strings of multicolored lights and faintly humming _Deck The Halls_. She sighed as guilt washed over her and slowly made her way to stand next to Cheyenne. 

She started gathering the lights that Cheyenne was pulling from the bin and glanced over at her, “I’ll help. It’s Christmas right?” 

Cheyenne smiled at her again, this time genuine and open. The pleased undertones of her smile were different from what Madison was used to and she realized that there was no malicious intent, no ill will, no wish to cause her any more harm or pain. Instead, she looked almost vulnerable, hope clearly shining in her eyes. 

They decorated the tree quietly, only the sound of Cheyenne’s gentle humming filling the silence between the two of them. It was strange to Madison how carefully Cheyenne wound the lights around the tree, how delicately she handled the tiny glass ornaments, how she lifted the ancient angel that sparkled and reflected the rainbow lights of the tree in dots all over the walls and ceiling with a tender fondness a sigh heavy with sadness and what Madison was sure was grief. 

“It was my momma’s,” she whispered as she gingerly held the angel with the tips of her fingers. “She had a few but this one was always my favorite. It makes the whole room beautiful, ya know? Like it makes everything kinda twinkle.” 

“It’s gorgeous,” Madison answered softly, but she wasn’t looking at the angel. Her gaze was fixed on Cheyenne’s face as she lost herself in whatever memories were circling through her mind. 

Cheyenne nodded and smiled at Madison, her gaze still surprisingly soft. “Can ya lift me up? I don’ think I can reach on my own.”

Madison grinned and rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t ignore the warmth that blossomed in her core as Cheyenne’s eyes lit up at her nod. “Yeah, come on,” she beckoned her closer and crouched down to wrap her arms around her thighs and lift her up with a small grunt of effort. 

They got the angel atop the tree without incident and Cheyenne stepped back to give it once over, smiling in open approval and clear happiness. Madison sighed and sat down on the couch, unsure of how to handle this unexpectedly light side of the woman who took so much pleasure in tormenting her. But it was nice to be able to relax and simply enjoy a few moments of not looking over her shoulder constantly. 

Cheyenne disappeared into her bedroom and Madison dropped her head to the back of the couch and closed her eyes. She was simply too tired to try and decipher the insane blonde’s sudden turn of behavior. She just hoped it would extend through the night so that she could actually sleep (maybe on the couch rather than Cheyenne’s bed). But the moment of peace was short lived, it was only a moment before she felt Cheyenne sit beside her and nudge her side gently. 

“Don’ sleep yet. I got ya somethin’.”

Madison looked at the little pink box in her hands suspiciously, reluctant to reach for it in case it was a lit firecracker ready to go off in her hand. 

“It ain’t gonna hurt’cha, take it. I picked it out special for ya.” 

Madison cautiously took the little box from her hands and pulled the little black bow free, dropping the ribbon to her lap as she slowly opened the gift. The paper came away to reveal a little velvet jewelry box and she raised her brows as she turned it over in her hands, trying to figure out what the hell she was feeling. 

Cheyenne scooted closer, her voice barely a whisper. “Go on, will ya get ta openin’ it already?”

Madison set her jaw and braced herself for whatever joke or pain was about to be inflicted on her and she popped the little box open. She was shocked to find a little gold locket hanging from a simple, delicate chain. Tiny flowers were engraved on the edge of the little circle and she carefully opened it to find a tiny photo of Cheyenne on one side and a tiny, blue pressed baby’s breath flower. 

She realized Cheyenne had obviously been paying attention to one of her random comments, otherwise she couldn’t have known that blue baby’s breath was her favorite, or that she missed the locket her mother had given her when she was a child that had disappeared at some point and never turned up. 

Cheyenne carefully pulled it free of the jewelry box and unhooked the clasp, moving closer on her knees. She draped the necklace over her chest and Madison instinctively pulled her long, almost orange hair over her shoulder so that she could close the necklace around her neck. 

Madison trailed her fingers down the necklace and turned the locket over as it lay against her chest. Cheyenne smiled softly as she sat back and watched her taking stock of the gift. 

“It looks beautiful on ya, I’m glad I got the gold and not the silver.” 

Madison shook her head and looked up at Cheyenne, her throat thick with emotions that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in the time since she’d been snatched off the street. “I didn’t get you anything - I couldn’t -”

Cheyenne shrugged and stood, stretching her arms over her head so that her waist peaked out from under her thin, cotton tee shirt. “You’re here ain’t’cha. That’s enough for me babe.” She cast Madison a sidelong glance and gave her that same surprisingly soft smile. “I’m goin’ to bed, come on when you’re ready.” 


	23. "When was the last time he slept?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "First sentence thing: When was the last time he slept?"
> 
> **content warning: sleep deprivation, barbed wire, auditory hallucinations, blood, violent whumper, multiple whumpees**

“When was the last time he slept?” The barb wire wrapped around Emilio’s throat scraped against his Adam's apple while he spoke, the blood tickled his collarbones as it dripped from his neck. 

Ezra was bound next to him in the same fashion by their delirious captor who muttered about demons speaking to him as he tied them to the porch railing. Now they watched him stare into nothing, his back to them as he faced the darkness of the woods at the back of the property like he was waiting for something to walk out of them.

“Well he won’t let me sleep if he’s not sleeping so I imagine the demons will start whispering in my ear pretty soon too.” Emilio suddenly felt grateful for his cage, at least he was able to get a decent night’s sleep in it.


	24. "When will you learn?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When will you learn ? 5 sentence thing"
> 
> **content warning: whipping, intimate whumper, sadistic whumper, broken whumpee**

“When will you learn?”

The rain is coming down harder now but that doesn’t deter Josiah’s desire to wear down Big Boy’s last bit of hope to less than nothing, the bullwhip cracking like thunder right is his ear.

When the whipping stops abruptly Big Boy tries to speak but nothing comes out but a pained whimper, the ghoulish state of his back making the pain too loud to form any words. He doesn’t notice Josiah crouching in front of him until he grabs his face, those stony green eyes adding to the helplessness that is engulfing him, telling him that it isn’t worth fighting anymore. 

“Ain’t nobody comin’ fer you,” Josiah orders, his hard gaze still pinned on the abused man’s bloodshot eyes. “Say it.”

Big Boy takes a shuddered breath, hoping the rain is masking the tears on his cheeks so Josiah doesn’t see. 

“No one is coming for me.”


	25. "That's not my blood."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's not my blood" for anyone"
> 
> **content warning: blood, implied torture**

“That’s not my blood,” Cheyenne said with a grin. 

Herschel and Josiah looked her up and down, both of them dumbstruck by the amount of blood that had dried in her hair and on her clothes.

“Ah, Christ,” Josiah muttered, glancing over her shoulder, “is she alive at least?”

Cheyenne’s grin widened and she bounced slightly on the balls of her feet. “Don’t worry, you’re li’l Honey Bee’s still breathin’.”

Josiah shook his head and pushed past her, cursing under his breath as he went looking for Honey Bee.


	26. "Remember when we were little?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Remember when we were little?" For Herschel and Cheyenne

“Remember when we were little?”

Herschel glanced at Cheyenne, his expression void of the whimsy he saw in hers. “Yeah, more than I want to remember to be honest.”

Cheyenne sighed and shook her head, “It wa’n’t that bad Hershey.”

“Speak for yourself,” he grumbled, already tired of Cheyenne’s attempt at reminiscing. 

Cheyenne shook her head and sighed, “Ya ain’t ever gon’ be happy if you can’t let it go.”


	27. "Death don't have no mercy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Death Don't Have No Mercy" for Herschel please my love
> 
> **content warning: strangling, choking, lady whump**

“Death don’t have no mercy,” Herschel looked at her with a murderous glint in his eyes. “And I ain’t gonna show you none either.”

His hands tightened around Annie’s wrists and she sobbed, touching her forehead to his knuckles in a silent act of submission. He yanked her to her feet and forced her against the wall, his body pinning hers in place so he could wrap his hands around her throat. She whined quietly, breathlessly, but dropped her hands to her sides in defeat. 

Herschel didn’t realize that for Annie, death itself was the mercy.


	28. "Please let's just go back."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "please lets just go back" for songbird??

“Please let’s just go back.” She looked at Herschel and Josiah with wide, fearful eyes, “please Herschel?”

Josiah ignored her but Herschel pinned her a hard stare. “You really think now is the time to be talkin’ Songbird?”

She bit her lip but fell silent, obediently following the men up the mountain path into the dark. She had no idea what was waiting for them, but the silence was worse than any threat.


	29. "I'm not worth it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not worth it" for songbird pls?

“I’m not worth it.” 

Herschel lifted her chin to look up at him and shook his head. “You’re worth everythin’ to me Darlin’, absolutely everythin’.”

Songbird bit her lip against a shaky sigh, afraid to truly feel the hope that sparked in her chest. “I’m not worth changing everything,” she whispered. 

“You already changed everythin’, you did that a long time ago.”


	30. "This ought to shut you up."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This ought to shut you up” for Annie
> 
> **content warning: forced mutism, stitches, open wound, implied torture, gags**

“This ought to shut you up,” Herschel muttered as he turned back to Annie. 

Her stomach turned over as he held the gag up and took a step closer. Panic flooded her system and she shook her head at him. “No, no please, I -”

The gag forced her mouth open and put an instant stop to her begging as he buckled it behind her head. She whined through the rubber ball but Herschel ignored her completely and returned his focus to the stitches he was haphazardly pulling through the wound on her thigh.


	31. "You're a monster."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songbird: 'you're a monster'
> 
> **content warning: implied torture, blood**

“You’re a monster.” Songbird stared at Herschel in horror, so upset by what she had just witnessed that she didn’t care about being punished for speaking. 

Herschel looked up at her, unphased by her comment. He watched her as he wiped the knife on his shirt, leaving long smears of blood on the grey cotton. “Careful, Darlin’,” he said dryly. “Keep it up and you might be next.”


	32. “What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘What the fuck were you thinking’

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?”

Madison glanced up at Cheyenne as the blonde stared at her incredulously. She shrugged and looked back at the skillet of food cooking on the stove. 

“I’m not kiddin’, you could’a been hurt!”

Madison dropped the spatula with a mocking laugh and turned to face Cheyenne. “And that’s a problem for you, why?”

Cheyenne’s mouth snapped shut and she turned away with a huff and a haughty flip of her curls.


	33. "I can't help if you don't let me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't help if you don't let me" for Herschel pleasee

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” Herschel cupped Songbird’s face in his hands, his calloused palms rough against her soft cheeks. He looked deep into her eyes, searching the honey brown of her gaze. 

Songbird stared at him and tried to ignore the way his icy gaze made her heart flutter. She rested her hand over his and closed her eyes, turning her face into his soft touch. 

“Let me help you Songbird.”


	34. “If you behave I might even let you breathe.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you behave I might even let you breathe for Herschel?

“If you behave I might even let you breathe.”

Annie wheezed a breath around the chain pulled too tight around her throat. She could feel the bruises settling deep in her olive skin and feel metal links pinching sharply. Her lungs seemed to freeze as he trailed his finger along the chain, tickling the sensitive skin of her throat. 

“Take another breath for me,” he whispered, his lips almost touching the shell of her ear. “I love the sound of you struggling to breathe.”


	35. “I think you’ve got some blood in your hair, Doll.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think you've got some blood in your hair, doll" For Cheyenne?
> 
> **content warning: blood, choking**

“I think you’ve got some blood in your hair, Doll.”

Madison glared at Cheyenne as she played with her long, red hair. Her trademark grin was infuriating, and the constant joke in her tone made Madison want to throttle her. 

“Aww,” Cheyenne cooed at her, smiling wider, “what’cha poutin’ for Rabbit?”

Madison clenched her jaw and reached for Cheyenne, wrapping her fingers around her throat and yanking her forward until they were only inches apart. “I am not your fucking Rabbit.”


	36. "You're mine."

“You’re mine.” Madison straddled Cheyenne’s lap, hands resting on her slim throat. Cheyenne’s fingers tightened on Madison’s waist as she looked up at her, desire clouding her bright blue eyes. 

“I’m yours, huh?” Cheyenne’s voice was husky with excitement, clearly enjoying Madison’s display of possessiveness. 

“Mine,” Madison whispered against Cheyenne’s lips.


	37. "I'm going to show you your place."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going to show you your place." Please wife!
> 
> **content warning: implied torture, hand gagging, hair pulling**

“I’m going to show you your place.” Herschel’s fingers curled tighter in Annie’s hair as he backed her against the wall, forcing her chin up as he pulled at the back of her scalp. 

She swallowed around a breathless gasp, looking up at Herschel in a desperate attempt to figure out what he was going to do. “Herschel, please -” she started anxiously. 

“Shh Songbird,” he covered her mouth with his hand and she whimpered quietly into his palm. “It ain’t time to sing yet, Darlin’.”


	38. Ezra > Steal food from Josiah's plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ezra ▶️ steal a piece of food from Josaih’s plate when he’s not looking"

The chicken was still steaming. Sitting on the tv tray. Uneaten. Golden brown skin he fried to perfection in the cast iron skillet. Ezra had finally perfected Mama Blevins’ special recipe, slaving away for hours at the stove. Making a meal he wouldn’t be allowed a morsel of. 

Ezra’s stomach was so dreadfully empty. He could feel himself fading away, his body no longer carrying the strength it once did. Josiah was keeping him weak. Even though Ezra does everything he asks and hardly puts up a fight. 

Josiah had already begun to nod off before Ezra brought the meal down the stairs to the den. The big man started drinking early, keeping Ezra on his toes all day with his wicked mood. He prayed all day for the moment of peace when he would finally be passed out cold for a few hours, giving Ezra a few hours to himself. A few hours to allow himself to relax while the demon is out cold. 

The demon never sleeps long.

Ezra reached a hand out to his cheek to make sure he was fully out. An ice cold palm to the cheek and not an inch of movement from his captor. 

Maybe just could take just one bite. On the underside of the breast where it’s not obvious. Josiah’s just going to have Ezra toss it once he wakes up and drags him to bed. 

Ezra leaned over Josiah, who was snoring away beside him and grabbed the fried chicken from the plate on the tray. The bite was so small. Too small to notice. 

Not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger that was ravaging him. Just a big tease. Perfectly seasoned crispy juicy chicken. He felt tears welling in his eyes, he was just so goddamn hungry.

So he took another bite. A bigger bite. 

And another.

Before he knew it, he’d eaten half the chicken. Panic immediately set in and he knew he’d be in for it when the beast awoke. Ezra rubbed the greasy pads of his fingers with his thumb and the idea came to him, a stroke of genius.

Slowly and as quiet as a mouse, Ezra rubbed the chicken on Josiah’s lips and fingers, coating them with grease. Making it look as though Josiah had passed out right after eating. Which he’d done before so it wasn’t so far out of the realm of possibility for him.

Ezra sat back on the couch, pulling his block closer to the edge so he could move his body into a more comfortable position without disturbing Josiah. Only time would tell if his petty food crime would be discovered, for now Ezra happily ate the rest of his forbidden chicken in the greenish glow of the Mama’s Family marathon on the old tv set.


	39. Josiah put a cigarette out on Baby's tongue for bad language.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Josiah, put a cigarette out on Baby's tongue for bad language."
> 
> **content warnings: cigarette burns, humiliation, dehumanization, punishment, sadistic whumper, smoking**

“Soap ain’t gonna cut it this time Baby.”

A few clicks later and the insidious looking metal gag Josiah pulled out from his toy box has Ezra’s mouth stretched wide open. 

Josiah leans back in his chair and laughs when Ezra tries to beg around the gag, the drool already dripping from his chin and pooling on the concrete by his knees. A cute but weak attempt to stop the inevitable. 

“Mama woulda tore open yer hide if she’da heard you blaspheme the way you did. She’da taken the broom handle to ya,” Josiah flips open his zippo and lights his cigarette, he blows smoke right in Ezra’s face who’s unable to dodge from where he's stationed between the man’s legs. His head is tipped back with a gentle finger under his chin. The tears he’d tried his best to hold back fell down his bruised temples, the only thing keeping him from shaking like a wet dog on a cold day is the white knuckle grip he has on his ragged sweatpants. 

One tap and he's already struggling to keep from gagging at the taste of spent tobacco. 

"She had the sharpest dang hearing too. She could hear you whisper under your breath from another room with the door shut mind you. Mama didn't let me get away with nothin',” Josiah said while tapping another small cylinder of ash onto Ezra’s tongue. "Don't swalla until I say. Understood?”

Ezra nodded slightly, too afraid to move a centimeter without permission. Josiah ashes into the frightened kneeling man's mouth again then leans over to FM radio perched on the workbench next to him and turns it on, already playing his favorite station right in the middle of a Lynyrd Skynyrd song.

Josiah continues on about his mother but it's all white noise to Ezra who can’t hear anything except his pounding heart. 

Without warning Josiah takes a brief pause in his story to put out the finished cigarette on Ezra's waiting tongue, the hot ember sizzles as it burns the tender flesh. 

Ezra howls in agony and lurches forward on his hands and knees, the filthy contents fall out of his mouth to the floor.

"Clean it up. Ain't nobody said you could spit neither," Josiah's voice changes from his normal cheery cadence to something much darker and filled with venom.

Ezra tries to scoop the mess up in his hands only to have them kicked away by a steel toed boot.

"Lick it up." 

Ezra lowers himself to the floor and does what he's told. Josiah keeps a boot on the back on his head until he's satisfied that Ezra is finished. 

Josiah yanks him back up to kneel in front of him, for a moment Ezra is relieved, almost willing to rest his chin on the devils lap. But Josiah isn’t ready yet and lights another cigarette, staring into Ezra’s eyes, the cherry of his fresh cigarette glowing orange in the sheen of fresh tears. He whimpers as Josiah takes a long drag and fresh ashes flake at the end of the cigarette. 

“C’mon Baby, don’t go gettin’ yerself all worked up yet, we ain’t near done.” He turns up the radio and the sound of static layered over the vintage guitar drowns out Ezra’s quiet sobs.


	40. Songbird, tell Josiah you hate him for the all the ways he hurt you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the command prompt "Songbird ▶️ Tell Josiah you hate him for the all the ways he hurt you." Written by SimplyGrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNINGS: talk of past trauma, talk of forgiveness, intimate whumper**

Songbird sighed quietly, avoiding Josiah’s gaze. It was strange, to be sitting in his favorite recliner while Josiah knelt on his knees in front of her, staring up at her the same way so many had stared up at him.

His eyes were filled with concern, with anxiety, his expression pleading with her to offer him the love and tenderness he craved so intensely. She could see the desperation in his face, the weariness in every wrinkle, his faint freckles scattered over his skin like ghosts of his youth. Songbird couldn’t miss his subtle pleas for her forgiveness, the way he clung to her kindness, her gentle mannerisms, even as he succumbed to the cruelty that lurked in the shadows of his heart.

“Tweetybird,” he said quietly, searching her eyes for any sign that she would give him what he so desperately needed to assuage the guilt that had settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach. “I need to know ya forgive me, I need to know ya can love an ol’ monster like me even after…ya know, all the things I did to ya.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek and landed in her lap, seeming to intensify the moment between them. Josiah gently took her hands in his own and pressed her palms to his cheek, as if reminding her that he was there, that he was real - as human as she was and just as capable of weakness and mistakes.

She swallowed and closed her eyes, silently praying for guidance, praying for strength as she struggled to figure out how to answer his heartbreaking request for absolution.

"I can’t,” she whispered, her voice reduced to little more than a whisper after years of near silence.

Josiah’s heartbreak was clear to see, his face crestfallen as her words washed over him. “Oh Tweety, no….”

“I’m so sorry Josiah,“ she said softly, her tears falling freely as he looked at her with the hopeless gaze of a broken man. "I can’t just forgive you, I can’t just love you. I want to, I truly want to. But…everything you’ve done…to me….to all the others…”

He took an unsteady breath and straightened his back to sit a little taller. Songbird braced herself for one of his outbursts, for some display of his wrath in reaction to her rejection, her denial of his request. But he simply nodded and kept staring into her eyes, like a wounded animal searching for some connection in the final moments of life.

“I want to forgive you, to love you with my whole heart. God knows you need it Josiah. But I can’t.” she looked at her lap as he released her hands and pulled away from her, she couldn’t keep staringat his wounded expression. It was too difficult to see, too unlike his usual air of confidence and control. “There will always be a part of me that hates you, Josiah. I love you, I do, but there will always be some of small part me that fears you, that resents you, that hates you for what you’ve done to me. What you’ve done to so many others…to Big Boy…”

With the same wounded look of a small child who had been pushed away by his mother, Josiah nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “I understand Tweety, ‘s okay. I’ll make it up to ya, somehow.”


	41. "Josiah Make Darlin' crawl through broken glass."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Command prompt "Josiah ▶️ Make Darlin' crawl through broken glass." Written by simplygrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: crawling on broken glass, punished, blood, fear, intimidation**

The big glass salad bowl slipped from his fingers and dropped to the ground, shattering to a million pieces with a deafening crash that froze the two captives. Big Boy and Darlin’ stared at the kitchen floor, both horrified at what had just happened, both slipping into the mind numbing fear that came with Josiah’s chair creaking in the other room as he got up to inspect the cause of the sound.

His footsteps were silent, just like always. No one ever heard the huge man coming. He came like the first wind of a hurricane, destructive, deadly, completely unpredictable.

The two men looked at each other for a moment, both wide eyed with fear.

“Well now,” he said, the calm in his voice somehow more terrifying than the moment of silence waiting for him to appear. “Which one of y'all broke Songbird’s bowl, huh?”

Big Boy shot him a look and Darlin’ instantly knew what he was thinking. His shoulders slumped forward and he turned to Josiah, prepared to take the blame for Darlin’s mistake yet again.

Darlin’ swallowed but stepped forward, unwilling to let Big Boy suffer any more for him. Big Boy grabbed his arm but Darlin’ shrugged him off, more determined to own up to the screw up.

“I did, I - I broke it. I didn’t - I mean, it slipped out of my hands. I’m sorry…”

Josiah nodded, his expression still far too calm for either captive’s comfort. He almost looked amused, and that was never a good sign.

“Alrigh’ butterfingers. I tell ya what, I’ll give ya an easy way to make up for it, yeah?”

Darlin’ felt his stomach twist into a knot, but he had no choice other than to nod and hope that Josiah truly was in a forgiving mood.

“You come on over here an’ give my boots a nice, wet kiss and I’ll call it done Darlin’.”

Relief crept into the back of his mind, hinting that maybe this one time it wouldn’t be so terrible. He nodded and took a step forward, but stopped short when Josiah grinned and held a hand up to him.

“No Darlin’, not like that. I wantcha to crawl to me.”

There it was. The catch. The ‘it’s as bad as I thought’ moment.

Darlin’ swallowed but caught the flicker of determination in the ginger giant’s eyes. he knew he had no choice, he was trapped between crawling through glass and an infinately worse unknown.

He dropped to his knees and carefully pressed his hands to the ground. The memory of an article he had read back when he was still a real person passed through his mind, saying that if you lay your palms flat and use even pressure you’re less likely to break the skin with the glass. But he wasn’t sure that would work here. These weren’t flat, slender shards of glass, they were thick and curved, rocking back and forth with sharp points angled in every direction he could think of.

Anxiety curled tighter in his chest but he swallowed the feeling and slowly started to move forward, laying his palms on the glass and slowly putting his weight down. His jaw clenched in a hard grimace as pain lanced through the heels of his hands and up into his wrists. The glass pressed deeper and deeper into his skin and he forced himself to crawl forward, towards the angel of pain that towered over him.

Josiah watched him with smug grin, satisfaction shining in his eyes as Darlin’ slowly moved towards him.

The trail of bloody palm prints, streaked and oozing over the floor laid out his trail of self destruction.


	42. "Herschel ▶️ Go punch Josiah in the face for taking the Elvis record again."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Command Prompt "Herschel ▶️ Go punch Josiah in the face for taking the Elvis record again." Written by simplygrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: killer cousins, mention of captive, suggestion of torture, punching, loving rivalry, blood**

Herschel flipped through Josiah’s records absentmindedly, more focused on the whimpers and moans coming the man laying bloody and broken on the living room floor.

He wasn’t sure what Josiah was doing to make the pitiful thing so loud, but the bandana they had shoved in his mouth did little to stop the sound. He grinned to himself, hoping that he would at least get to him before he passed out. It was always more fun when he could see the fear in their eyes, the subtle tremor that ripped through their bodies even as they tried to appear brave and unbothered.

Of course, the disconnected glaze of overwhelming pain was nothing to shrug at. But his cousin had gotten efficient over the years, and Herschel knew that if he took too long, Josiah would push the object of their fun to the edge of breaking before he could even join in.

He flicked quickly through the records, barely registering the familiar sleeves that Josiah kept them in, each one protected by a thin, plastic film that preserved the colors and the gloss of the orginal printing. But one in particular caught his eye, and Herschel knew what it was before he had even pulled it from it’s home to see the full print on the sleeve.

His gleeful anticipation quickly faded into annoyance.

That record was his. It belonged in his home, by his record player. It didn’t belong here.

And yet. Somehow. It always ended up here.

But Herschel had had enough.

He abandoned his quest to find new music and stomped back into the living room, hardly noticing the man bound on the floor writhing in pain. His sights were set solely on Josiah.

“What the fuck is this?”

Josiah glanced over and shrugged, his attention still focused on his captive. “What’s it look like, cuz?”

“Looks like my fuckin’ record, cuz.” He laid the sarcasm thick over the last word, insulting Josiah’s chosen familial term for him.

Josiah sighed and looked at him, already exhausted with what he was sure would be another hissy fit from his little cousin.

“It ain’t yers. It ain’t mine. It was Papaw’s and no one said ya could just lay claim to it just ‘cause 'e’s dead.”

Herschel narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, invading his overwhelmingly larger cousin’s space. “You know damn good an’ well I took this when we divied up the records. It don’t belong here.”

Josiah shrugged again, giving him a careless grin. “What'cha gon’ do about it?”

Herschel set his jaw and threw caution to the wind, leaning into his impulses without a second thought. He pulled back and swung - hard.

His fist landed square across Josiah’s jaw, snapping the man’s head sideways and causing him to stumble slightly from the impact.

Josiah stood, stunned for a moment, running his hand over his jaw. He stared at Herschel, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and broke into a hearty laugh.


	43. "Liam ▶ tell Songbird something nice you think about her"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Command Prompt "Liam ▶ tell Songbird something nice you think about her" Written by simplygrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: whumpees bonding, reference to past trauma, liam isn’t being a dick for once.**

Songbird quietly ran the alcohol soaked cloth over Liam’s forehead, taking care not to press too hard on the split skin just above his hairline. She was quiet, but that was no surprise, she was always quiet unless he had done something to upset her.

Her honey brown eyes were focused but still soft and kind, her expression somehow comforting even in the middle of the pit of hell that he had been sold into.

Liam sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with how much he appreciated her.

Songbird slowed her movements, the gentle dabbing of his skin turned into long, tender presses of the cloth. It was as if she was trying to soothe him, trying to ease the feelings that she surely knew from first hand experience.

“Annie, I -” he stopped at her almost silent sigh, her reluctance to acknowledge the name.

“Sorry…Songbird…”

The name that Herschel had chosen for her almost made him sick, it stuck behind his teeth like the plaster that you bit down at the dentists to make an impression of your mouth. But the last time he had shared his feelings about the name she had refused to come down to see him for days, leaving him alone with only the menace that kept them both.

“Songbird,” he stared again, looking at her with intense eyes, “I just wanted to say thank you…”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him, her brows raised slightly.

“I just…I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t…here…”

He sighed heavily, at a loss for the words he needed to convey what he was feeling to her.

“I don’t know how you’ve stayed so kind, being here I mean.” His voice had dropped to near silence, as if he was afraid that raising his voice to normal levels would break through the serenity of the moment. “You’re too good for all of this, too pure…not just for him - for the whole world.”


	44. "herschel ▶ call up christie and ask how she's doing"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Command Prompt "herschel ▶ call up christie and ask how shes doing" written by simplygrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: alcohol tw, arguing, talk of past relationships**

Herschel gritted his teeth and stared at his phone. The alimony checks hadn’t been cashed in almost three months, and he highly doubted that his ex wife had gotten a job. He knew she needed the money he sent her to keep up her drinking habits, to keep trying to drown herself in cheap vodka and shitty beer.

But she hadn’t been cashing the checks.

He glanced over his shoulder, checking one last time that Songbird wasn’t around - he hated her to be reminded of his ex, of all the hassle she caused - and then he hit call.

The phone rang in his ear. And rang. And rang. And rang.

It rang six times before it connected, but the line was silent. He listened closely, all too aware of the faint sound of breathing on the other end of the call.

“Christie…I can hear ya, ya know.”

She sighed heavily and for a moment Herschel thought she was going to hang up on him.

“What’d'ya want?”

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath, instantly infuriated by her slurred, snippy tone. “Why ain'tcha been cashin’ the checks Christie?”

“Since when do ya care,” she started, already starting to snipe at him. “Thought ya’d be happy to have more to spend on that girl ya got now, mockin'bird or whatever ya got everyone callin’ ‘er.”

He clenched his jaw, biting down the spike of anger at her blatant dig at Songbird.

“I can take care'a _Songbird_ jus’ fine, Christie. Cash the fuckin’ checks I send ya,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“I don’ wantcher money Hershey -”

“ _Don’t_ fuckin’ call me that. And don’t fuckin’ argue with me. Just cash your fuckin’ checks and keep yer mouth shut about Songbird.”

“Whatever,” she snapped before the line clicked in his ear and went dead.

Herschel sighed and tossed the phone on the table. He had moments where he forgot why their marriage imploded, but it only took one conversation to bring the memories flooding back to him.


	45. "Josiah, do you regret anything that you did to your victims?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truth Serum Prompt "Josiah, do you regret anything that you did to your victims?"
> 
> **cw: talk of past victims**

“Once in a blue moon I’ll get a feeling, like Turtledove is here watchin’ me.” Josiah looks up towards the sky blue heavens above and closes his eyes, letting the memories of how she tried so hard to save his wretched soul replay in his mind. All he gave her in return was sorrow for her troubles.

“I know I’m down here breakin’ her heart but it’s too late now for regrets. My soul is damned anyhow, might as well have myself a ‘lil fun on the ride down.”


	46. "Ezra ▶️ beg for a treat like a good boy 😈"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For command prompt: "Ezra ▶️ beg for a treat like a good boy 😈"
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: NONCON/DUBCON, noncon/dubcon touch, oral sex, begging, starvation, captivity, dehumanization, pet whump, animal abuse mention, food mention, sadistic whumper, intimate whumper, implied torture**

Ezra knows there’s one surefire way to get something he wants, the only thing his mouth is good for according to the man holding him captive in these lonely mountains. The man that takes what he wants from Ezra and withholds what he needs until he’s begging for scraps at the table like a starved dog.

He feels like a starved dog. Josiah’s old hunting dog has never known hunger in his life the way Josiah dotes on him, not missing his chow time by a minute. Blackjack eats like a king, while the grown man under his heel has the always present pain of hunger in his stomach. 

So when he smells the sweet aroma of the fresh Georgia peach Josiah is slicing above him, he doesn’t hesitate to pull himself from the floor and peek his head out from underneath the breakfast table. Most of his morning had been spent in a far off haze, induced by the cool sensation of the linoleum floor. The cold air gathered close to the ground and seeped into his bruised skin, providing a small refuge from the constant ache that had consumed him.

Ezra closes his eyes and empties his mind as he nuzzles the bulge in Josiah’s jeans, putting on his best puppy dog eyes cause Josiah can’t resist those deep baby blues of his. Nothing will stand in the way of that peach.

“Somebody’s wantin’ a treat huh?” Josiah pushes his thumb into Ezra’s mouth, he closes his eyes in ecstasy at the taste of the nectar he sucks clean. He’s got him hooked now, just a little bit longer and he’ll get to see if they taste as heavenly as the juice does.

“Yes please, Josiah.” Ezra makes himself sound as pathetic and desperate as possible, just how Josiah liked. 

“Then ya better get on it, Baby.” Josiah smiles and card’s his fingers through Ezra’s hair while he slowly unzips the dark denim pants inches away from his face. 

It was easy to debase himself when hunger and pain were all he was allowed to feel consistently, and the promise of the peach was enough for Ezra to ignore the ache in his jaw as he worked Josiah's body to a state of satisfaction. He braced against the taste of sweat and cruelty, promising himself something far greater after he completed his task.

The taste of Josiah still lingers on his tongue when he’s handfed those first few bites. Thankfully it’s quickly replaced with the most delicious peach to ever touch his lips, totally worth lowering himself for something he shouldn't have to beg for. 

An entire peach later and Ezra is dozing off, halfway in the larger man’s lap and halfway under the table. Josiah leans forward a bit and takes the bandana from his back pocket, careful not to jostle the sleeping man too much. He gently wipes the juice from Ezra’s chin while he drifts off completely and lets his exhausted pet sleep for a while.

A treat well earned.


	47. "Say uncle."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A five sentence fic for "Say uncle."
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, addicted whumpee, drugs tw, addiction, broken bones, sadistic whumper, sadistic game**

“Say uncle.” Josiah tightened his grip and wrenched Goldie’s arm upward behind his back, one more pull would mean a dislocated shoulder.

“I can’t!” His wrist had already snapped under the pressure but Goldie stubbornly held firm. The need to feel good in this hellhole was blinding his common sense and Josiah revelled in taking advantage of it for his entertainment.

“Ya want it that bad?” Goldie doesn’t respond to the question, his sole focus is centered on the pill bottle pushed just out of his reach until Josiah suddenly and mercifully let’s go of his arm.

“You’re pathetic.” Josiah left him there on the floor, leaving him with a single upper to quell the pain of his broken wrist.


	48. "Come here and bend over my lap."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five sentence fic for "Come here and bend over my lap." Annie's POV written by Simplygrimly
> 
> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Noncon touching, spanking, punishment, forced to watch, humiliation, intimate whumper, multiple whumpees, female whumpee, forced nudity**

Big Boy hesitantly shook his head no, he couldn’t do that in front of Annie, not her.

Josiah glared in his direction, a silent threat that if he didn’t get his ass over there soon he would suffer dire consequences.

He situated himself over Josiah’s lap and buried his face into the couch pillows in the corner, as if that would make the audience watching this humiliation disappear.

“Look darlin’, the mutt is shy.” Herschel’s chuckle at his expense made him feel all the more vulnerable, that is until his boxers were yanked down leaving him completely exposed.

A tight grip forced his head from the cushions towards Annie’s direction, making sure she had a good view of his face while Josiah spanked him until he couldn’t stand.

\---

Annie shifted uncomfortably in Herschel's lap, trying to avoid looking up at Big Boy as he laid over Josiah's lap. Herschel's voice was little more than a deep hum in her ear, the vibrations of his chuckle making Big Boy's shame infinitely worse. She blushed for him, deeply ashamed at her inability to look away from his humiliation, to stop herself from staring into his eyes when Josiah forced him to turn his head back to her.

The silence was only broken by the flat slap of Josiah's hand against his bare backside, slowly turning his skin a shade of red that rivaled Songbird's cheeks. It seemed to go on forever, and endless display of the power that the cousins held over their captives, pushing them both deeper into the hopelessness and fear that swallowed them whole.


	49. Yellow Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five sentence fic for prompt "Ezra wakes in a jerk of aching muscles and heavy limbs, ripped from sleep by the distinct feeling of eyes watching him in the dark."
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: animal death, thoughts of death, restraints, captivity**

Ezra wakes in a jerk of aching muscles and heavy limbs, ripped from sleep by the distinct feeling of eyes watching him in the dark.

Now would be a great time for Josiah to come and fetch him from the woods like he promised he would when he was tying Ezra to the tree hours earlier, once his last minute visitor was gone he said. 

A rustle in the wild shrubbery that sounds too close makes him try to reach the knots on the rope with his fingers without drawing the attention of whatever it was that was stalking him but Josiah’s knots are expertly tied and tamper proof, making him the perfectly helpless prey for the beast in the darkness.

It makes itself known with a low growl as it moves closer to him, it’s yellow eyes set inside an onyx void of fur were almost a glow despite the lack of light in the dense trees.

Ezra knew he would die in these woods but he never thought it would end like this, torn to shreds by a wild animal.

A shot rings out followed by a shrill yelp from the wolf laid out in front of him just a few feet away, now visible in the bright beam of Josiah's flashlight.


	50. She fought and he won.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micro fiction prompt for "She fought and he won. For Songbird."

She fought and he won. He always won, no matter how much she fought or how hard she pushed against him.

Songbird knew he would win, but some small part of her needed to fight anyway. Some small part of her needed to feel like she was her own, like she still retained a sliver of her autonomy despite having been branded like literal property.

She lifted her chin and stubbornly stared into his eyes, refusing to move to obey him.

The spark in his eyes as he smirked at her made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and even as fear tumbled in her thoughts Songbird felt a tiny thrill as he stepped closer and gripped her jaw firmly, lifting her to her toes as he grinned.


	51. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micro fiction prompt for "“Why are you looking at me like that?” Written by Simplygrimly
> 
> **content warnings: wlw, lady whump**

“Why are you looking at me like that,” Cheyenne snapped as she squirmed under Madison’s gaze.

It was uncomfortable for her to be looked at so closely, most people took care not to look at her at all, but Madison didn’t seem worried about any of the things that the rest of the world did. She didn’t seem intimidated by Cheyenne’s mood swings, by her vicious games, by her dangerous lack of impulse control. Instead, she seemed curious, increasingly intrigued by every outburst, more and more determined with each mark Cheyenne left on her body.

“It’s nothing,” Madison said with a soft smile, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke the blonde’s cheek softly (no matter how tempted she was by how wildly uncomfortable any show of affection made Cheyenne). “I just think I finally understand you.”


	52. He can't do this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micro fiction for "He can't do this. For Annie" Written by simplygrimly

“He can’t do this,” Annie whispered, her head hung low in defeat and shame.

Big Boy laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, all too aware that she would find no comfort in his touch, no matter how well intended it was.

She shied away from him for fear that Herschel was watching - he was always watching, always waiting for her to screw up so that he could make her suffer more.

“He can,” Big Boy said in a hushed tone. “They all can, the whole family, but you’re strong enough to survive it.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and Annie looked up at him, wondering how she could possibly strong enough if a man as huge and strong as him could be so broken by these people.


	53. "You scared me to death."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micro fiction prompt for ""You scared me to death" for Madison" Written by simplygrimly
> 
> **content warning: wlw, lady whump**

“You scared me to death, Cheyenne,” Madison snapped, her hand pressed over her heart as she tried to catch her breath. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cheyenne giggled and shrugged, looking over the pretty blush on Madison’s face as she slipped out of her hiding place and pecked her on the cheek with a cheery kiss.

“I dunno, jus’ wanted to have a little fun, ya know?”

Madison caught her by the waist as she slipped past her, pulling Cheyenne back to her with an irritated sigh. “Giving me a fucking heart attack isn’t fun, Cheyenne.”


	54. "Who said it was a threat?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micro fiction prompt for ""Are you threatening me?" "Who said it was a threat" for Cheyenne and Madison" Written by simplygrimly
> 
> **content warnings: choking, dubcon kissing, lady whump**

“Are you threatening me,” Cheyenne growled as she slammed Madison’s back against the wall.

The tiny redhead lifted her chin defiantly, taking slow, careful breaths through the bruising grip squeezing her throat tighter with each moment that passed. She could see the sparkle of excitement in Cheyenne’s eyes, could see that she was thrilled by Madison’s refusal to play along with her little game.

“Who said it was a threat,” she wheezed, narrowing her eyes at Cheyenne.

It infuriated Madison that she was charmed by the bright smile that she flashed her, that even as she was literally stealing the breath from her lungs she was still impossible to resist.

Cheyenne arched a brow and used her grip on Madison’s throat to shove her harder into the wall, after a tense second she pressed a bruising kiss to her lips and let go with a final shove.


	55. Josiah, Ezra needs some "rest", make sure Baby stays in bed all day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comman Prompt for "Josiah, Ezra needs some "rest", make sure Baby stays in bed all day"
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING: captivity, tied to the bed, intimate whumper, muzzles, threats of violence**

He tightens the final knot on the coarse rope and stands back to admire the sight of Baby all spread out on top of the freshly made bed, each limb stretched out and secured to the corners of the metal bed frame. Josiah lays an old patchwork blanket over him and plants a kiss on his forehead. The ginger giant smells like Cool Water and tobacco. He's dressed to go out drinking, his black leather jacket layered over his red flannel shirt, dark denim jeans and black shit kickers.

"I'll be back before ya know it _and_ you can catch up on some sleep." Ezra turns his head away in disgust. He tried to bargain with him to be allowed to just be chained to the block and move around freely. How far could he possibly get on foot being hobbled like that? It didn’t matter how much he begged, he was still wrestled to the bed and overpowered. before he was wrestled to the bed. Hiis attempts to resist always turned out so fruitless. "Unless you'd rather I drop ya off at Cheyenne's trailer and let her keep and eye on ya for the day."

Ezra's distraught muzzled protests at the suggestion are suppressed by the brown leather digging it's way into his cheeks, making him lightheaded from the initial panic of it being strapped to his face. He'd rather stay tied to this cursed bed than face whatever dreadful horror lies at the demented blonde's home. Ezra knows he wouldn't make it out of there alive if Josiah gave her enough time to really sink her teeth into him.

"Here. I'll leave the TV on fer ya so you don't get too lonesome while I'm gone." He turns off the light before shutting and locking it behind him for good measure.

Josiah leaves him alone with his thoughts and Andy Griffith on the tv.


End file.
